


Il mio bello

by horny on main (softgrungeprophet)



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Comfort, Established Relationship, Insecurity, Kissing, Licking, M/M, Multi, POV Multiple, Photography, Threesome - M/M/M, submissive flash thompson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23220016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softgrungeprophet/pseuds/horny%20on%20main
Summary: Next to Johnny, sometimes Flash feels less than shining--Rich, beautiful, famous... None of those describe him.But Peter and Johnny make sure he knows he's beautiful and they love him.
Relationships: Flash Thompson/Johnny Storm, Peter Parker/Flash Thompson, Peter Parker/Johnny Storm, Peter Parker/Johnny Storm/Flash Thompson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 93





	Il mio bello

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bortanomics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bortanomics/gifts).



Flash looked at the magazine in his hands.

The loopy logo of Esquire, a soft pink behind the Human Torch's golden curls. Johnny looked out from the cover sidelong, a little coy, hands above his head and wrapped up in a baby blue sweater with a turtleneck that came right up to his chin. Plush, and just the right kind of clingy. The background was a sooty gray, and Johnny's eyes popped from the dramatic lighting.

He was beautiful.

Flash could just imagine him in the studio, surrounded by beautiful people, but the center of attention himself.

New York City's most eligible—well.

Okay.

He wasn't exactly an eligible bachelor anymore.

"Are you admiring me?" Johnny seemed to materialize in the doorway, and Flash jumped. He slapped the magazine down on the coffee table.

"You don't need _any_ more admiration." Flash crossed his arms, glaring, but without much heat. After all, their days of competing and bickering were (mostly) over. He let himself smile, just a little bit. "If I inflate your ego any bigger, you'll float away and then where would we be?"

Johnny laughed, and as he sauntered over he said, "Can't have you and Peter wasting away without my good looks."

He threw himself onto the couch beside Flash and leaned close, until their shoulders bumped. He was warm, and Flash shifted into that heat without even thinking about it. "Or your cooking."

More laughter.

Johnny's laughter was nice. Light. Maybe that was what people meant when they described laughter like bells. In some ways it reminded Flash of MJ, and he wondered how he managed to go so long thinking that laughter was annoying… Jealousy, probably.

Everything about Johnny was so photogenic, and charming. Flash's laugh was too loud, and he felt like he took up space wherever he went, even though he had half as much mass as everyone else. He was all awkward proportions and big shoulders and small hands and Johnny did _modeling_ and movies and commercials and pop albums.

Hell, even Peter looked like a model sometimes. Between his great ass and his strong features… Flash could easily picture him posing in his underwear, or something.

"I don't know how you two survived before you met me." Johnny snaked his arm around Flash's waist. "Scratch that. I know what Peter eats when I'm not around and it's not pretty."

"Hey," Flash jostled him a little—pulled him into his lap. "Those fruit pies are good."

Johnny's eyebrows shot up. "You and I have different definitions of the word."

Maybe so.

Flash shrugged. "I like 'em."

"I know you do." Johnny leaned down, just enough to brush his lips against Flash's temple. "You also like pickles on pizza, you heathen."

Flash's turn to laugh. He hugged Johnny close, resting his chin on the soft curve of Johnny's shoulder, and let himself forget about Esquire, in favor of the man in his arms.

***

"It's leaves." Peter gestured with his fork, as if to somehow punctuate his statement with a correctness that didn't exist. "It's green, it's a leaf."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "It's _kale_." 

"Spinach. Kale. Lettuce. I don't care. It's all leaves, it tastes like nothing and I don't like it." He shoved a forkful in his mouth with a grimace, and with all the politeness of a five year old mumbled, "I'll use as much salad dressing as I want."

Johnny huffed.

"It's _mustard_ _vinaigrette_."

Peter made a face.

Johnny looked up at the ceiling to gather all the patience he normally reserved for Bentley when he tried to blow something up, or Valeria when she hotwired his Stingray, and let his breath out calmly. Peter was a grown man. If he wanted to slather his kale and salmon in mustard dressing, so be it. At least he was eating a vegetable.

On the broad side of the table, with his wheelchair parked beside him, Flash sighed.

Peter's eyes zeroed in on him like lasers, but he didn't say anything. Johnny could see that brain of his working, cogs turning. Peter caught his eye. Nodded toward the kitchen. Johnny looked between him and Flash—Flash picking at his food in disinterest, a thousand miles away.

"Okay, well, I better go check on the uh. Oven. To see if it's still hot enough to make brownies! Because I want brownies, I've just decided."

Johnny stepped away from the table and hurried to the kitchen.

He poked his head out to spy a little, though, as Peter moved his chair up close to Flash.

It was always best to let Peter talk to Flash when he seemed down. After all, he'd known him since high school. Johnny only really started to _know_ Flash in his late twenties, and sometimes their conversations still devolved into bickering—to be fair, they both did that with Peter, too, on occasion. But Johnny didn't know Flash well enough to know the right things to say, despite the things they had in common.

His drinking problem wasn't like Flash's drinking problem—he was just a slightly overzealous day drinker. Flash was a lifelong alcoholic. His depression was different from Flash's depression. He didn't have PTSD—well, he did, but not the same kind. Not from childhood. They'd both been through a lot of trauma in different ways (and so had Peter), but he just didn't have the angle and the familiarity to know how to make it okay for Flash.

He didn't even know how to make it okay for himself, most of the time.

So instead, he watched Peter murmuring quietly, not quite audible from the kitchen. Watched the way he brushed Flash's hair back from his face, long enough now to tuck behind his ear. Peter kept stroking his hair, as he spoke, and Flash nodded wordlessly. The way he got, sometimes, all that big talk and loudness falling away.

Johnny knew the feeling a little too well.

***

Peter stared up at the ceiling in the dark.

Beside him, Johnny slept, a glow of heat against his side. Naked, but just because he slept like that. Of all of them, Flash wore the most clothes to bed. Of course, right now, he was in the living room, sleeping on the couch.

No stated reason. Not even the sweet drifting-off-during-a-movie kind of sleeping-on-the-couch. Just turned with his face hidden and his back to the room, blankets pulled up over his head. Do not disturb, and certainly do not pick up and carry to the bedroom. Not that Peter tried to do that one, anymore. He'd long since learned that Flash didn't like being manhandled without permission and—yeah, that was understandable. Peter had seen enough strangers try to bodily move Flash out of the way in public, like he was just some piece of furniture, to get why he didn't like it.

Still.

Still, still, still. Peter tapped his fingers restlessly on his arm.

Johnny's hand snuck out to still them.

"I didn't know you were awake." Peter turned his head to look at Johnny, who still lay with eyes closed, face soft.

Johnny opened one eye to mutter, "You're so tense I can't sleep."

"Sorry."

Johnny tugged on his hand until he rolled over, on top of him. They stared at each other in the darkness, Johnny's eyes glowing slightly and casting the dimmest golden light onto Peter's face. Peter let out a sigh and rested his forehead against Johnny's.

"What do you want me to do?"

Johnny focused on him, thinking.

"He's having a bad day." Johnny folded his arms behind his head. "Well, night. Did you ask why?"

Peter shook his head and nudged Johnny into a kiss. "He's not so good at opening up." Another kiss, and he grinned. "Reminds me of someone else I know."

Johnny shoved at his shoulder, but of course he didn't budge. Peter grinned a little wider and took one of Johnny's hands in his, smoothing his thumb over the pulse. Steady, hot, strong. He kissed Johnny's palm.

"He'll be okay in a few days."

And, okay, maybe that was a little insensitive, but it was true. Flash always bounced back, no matter how bad things got or how hard he fell. He was resilient like that. This indomitable will to fight and live that could only be pushed down for so long before blossoming back outward.

Johnny looked unimpressed.

"What?"

Johnny rolled his eyes.

"Okay, okay," Peter ducked his head to kiss at Johnny's jaw. "I'll talk to him in the morning."

***

When Flash woke up, it was to Johnny singing along to Britney Spears on the radio, accompanied by the smell of brewing coffee. He couldn't help but smile to himself, as he stretched on the couch, though it was a little earlier than he normally liked to get up on a weekend. He could hear the shower running, presumably Peter after one of his early morning patrols.

Flash's stomach grumbled.

Hungry…

But he also didn't feel like eating, or moving.

At least he didn't feel so bad today.

Though just thinking about that brought it back into the forefront of his mind and now he couldn’t help but think about how he'd slept on the _couch_ just because he was in a bad mood, and Johnny and Peter had probably both been tiptoeing around to keep from waking him…

Flash turned his face into the cushions.

They probably thought he was such a hassle.

Flash curled up and pulled his blankets up tight around him, to block out the smell from the kitchen.

He felt sick.

He didn't know how long passed but it was long enough for Johnny to turn off the radio and for the shower to go silent. The couch dipped from someone sitting down, and a hand settled on Flash, through the blankets. Somewhere around the location of his shoulder.

"Hey." It was Peter. He didn't try to pull the blankets off of Flash, though he rubbed his back through the thick cotton. "Are you still… you know?"

No doubt the word "sad" felt too trite.

Flash grumbled.

A little bit of Peter's weight pressed down on Flash, just a comforting squish. His voice was quieter but easy to make out close to Flash's ear when he said, "Tell me what's wrong."

"Bossy." Flash didn't try to shove him off, though.

Peter hummed. "Stubborn."

Yeah, him and every goddamn person he knew, from friends to enemies. Flash let out a heavy breath and nudged Peter off of him so he could sit up. Peter went easily, pulling one leg up as he rearranged himself with Flash against his side. Flash leaned his head on Peter's shoulder, as Peter slung his arm around him, and for a minute they just sat in silence.

Silence, save for Johnny in the kitchen, of course.

Flash stared across the room, at one of the pictures hanging on the wall. Some picture of Flash when he was in college, with a doofy haircut and an orange t-shirt. Not the most flattering of photos. Right next to one of Johnny and Spider-man, on top of the Statue of Liberty.

"I don't get it." Flash laid himself down, grabbing a pillow to cushion his head in Peter's lap.

Peter's hand found his hair immediately, working those long fingers through it in gentle but firm strokes belying his hidden strength. "Don't get what?"

For once he didn't try to crack a joke, or lighten it up. Just asking. Making sure.

Flash closed his eyes, relaxing under Peter's touch.

"Oh, you know." Flash tried for self-deprecating but humorous, instead of the wallowing uncertainty that always tried to suck him up. "I just hate myself and I don't know why you two put up with me."

Peter's hand stilled, and Flash's stomach turned. But Peter pulled a strand of hair free from Flash's face and ran his knuckle down the side of Flash's cheek—he caught Flash's chin under his thumb, and coaxed Flash to look up at him.

He looked so serious, even with his hair still damp from the shower. Dark eyes all soft and worried, and that little crease in his forehead that never seemed to go away entirely. Such a worrier, always thinking about everything—

"I love you, Flash." Peter cupped his face with his other hand, keeping Flash from looking away easily. "I don't put up with you, and neither does Johnny, because we like having you around."

Flash turned his eyes down so he wouldn't have to look at Peter.

He was too intense sometimes.

"It's just—I'm so." Flash scowled. "How am I supposed to compete?"

He didn't let Peter answer.

"Johnny's so… glamorous, and rich, and famous, and he wears designer clothes and he's so pretty, and you're _Spider-man_ —you're made for each other!" He reached up to press the heels of his palms against his eyes until he saw stars. Sparks. "You're so smart, and handsome, and I'm just… _Eugene_."

He didn't ever call himself that except when it was his dad's voice in his head telling him to be a man, stop wasting everyone's time. Loser, disappointment, alcoholic, dropout and no celebrity status to make up for it. Couldn't even be a _fun_ alcoholic like Johnny. Couldn't even do the one thing he'd been good for anymore—

Like he hadn't just done football because his dad wanted him to.

" _Flash_."

Flash covered his face with his arms, and Peter let him, but Peter also dropped feather light kisses anywhere he could reach as he murmured, "You know more about poetry than I could ever dream of." He rubbed at Flash's hip through the rumpled blankets. "Just because you don't know how to design a webshooter from scratch doesn't mean you aren't smart. And I promise you, you're just as good looking as either of us. You're beautiful. You know that?" He paused. "Anyway, Johnny is dumber than a box of rocks, so you've got one up on him."

" _I heard that!_ "

Flash laughed a little, quietly, from behind his arms.

When he peeked out, Peter smiled down at him.

"You feel better, pretty boy?"

Flash reached for his hand. "Keep calling me beautiful and we'll see."

***

Johnny threw himself across Peter and Flash's laps dramatically simply to say:

"I have an idea."

They both looked at him, Flash mostly confused, Peter suspicious. Both adorable in their own ways.

"Hear me out." Johnny took them both by the jaw. "Peter, you just got a new camera. Sorry—let me rephrase." He cleared his throat. "Peter, I just bought you a new camera."

Peter groaned.

"So I was just thinking."

"Spare me."

Johnny shot him a glare. "I was just _thinking_." He brushed a speck of dust from his jeans, and let a little spark burn it away. "That it might be nice to… break it in. So to speak."

Flash exchanged a look with Peter, then with Johnny.

Before he could ask, Johnny leaned in to kiss him, and whispered, "Not for me."

It took him a few seconds to put the pieces together but then everything clicked and… "O-oh."

Johnny smiled—the flirty smile, perfected to flatter and seduce. It worked like a charm on Flash, judging by the way he blushed clear to the tips of his ears. Johnny reached up to toy with Flash's hair, curling a long strand around his finger as he pointedly ignored Peter's gaze. "What do you say? Lemme dress you up nice and pose you."

"Kinky."

He elbowed Peter.

Flash seemed uncertain, but he nodded. "Okay."

"Good." Johnny hopped off of them. "I'll be in the bathroom."

He strutted off without bothering to wait for either of them to follow.

***

" _Pout for me._ "

Peter shook his head as Johnny did Flash up, both freshly bathed and Flash naked—Johnny in a satin robe, straddling Flash's hips on the bed and leaning over him with a wand of lip gloss. Peter just hoped he wouldn't go too overboard. Johnny may have done shoots in loud makeup and vinyl pants, himself, but Flash was just a guy from Queens who still got a little shy about holding hands in public or wearing too much pink. (Even though he liked it, and it looked good on him.)

He needn't have worried.

When Johnny pulled back (after a sweet little kiss to steal some of his lip gloss) Flash was just a little more polished than usual. Johnny had singed away any stubborn hairs shadowing his chin and evened up his sideburns a little, but no more than a good shave and trim would have. The most noticeable thing was the glimmering shine on Flash's lips, and the fine choker sparkling at his throat.

Flash shifted under Johnny and looked to Peter as he asked, "How do I look?"

Hair expertly tousled, probably some weird product in it; long, loose curls that fanned across the pillowcase.

Absolutely edible.

"I could ravish you _right_ now." Peter snapped the lens onto his camera perhaps a little too forcefully. "But I won't."

He raised the camera to his eye just to look through it at his two beautiful boys. Flash blushed even redder and turned his head. Hiding his face. Johnny caught Peter's line of sight and winked over his shoulder.

Peter ignored him.

This was about Flash, after all.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Peter resisted the urge to just tackle them both into the sheets. "You know I love when you get shy like that."

Flash wrinkled his nose, and Johnny laughed as he left him on the bed, ducking into the bathroom. Peter moved his tripod over beside the bed to get properly set up, with a chair too, for options. Hell, if he wanted he could have hung from the ceiling to get a bird's-eye view, but it was nice to just sit down sometimes.

He let Flash get comfortable, pretty on the clean cerulean silk sheets. Johnny hummed jauntily to himself in the bathroom, and after only a few moments more he emerged with his hair impeccable and his robe abandoned. Unadorned, smooth-skinned, and already climbing onto Flash to push him into the sheets.

Peter adjusted the lighting just-so, sending soft-edged shadows over their skin and catching the tiny rhinestones around Flash's throat so they sparkled with every tiny movement.

As he did that, Johnny arranged Flash's arms over his head, nudging him into a somewhat natural position—languid, seductive, and calm, with Flash's face turned toward the camera in a way that brought his chin up and exposed the line of his neck.

"Perfect." Peter focused and took a few shots, just adjusting as he went, until he found what he liked. "You're beautiful like this."

Flash bit his bottom lip, the tiny shimmer highlighting how soft it was.

Peter wanted to reach out and bite it too.

Instead…

"Torchy, can you make with the kissing?"

Johnny shot him a look, as if to say " _How unromantic_ " but he kissed Flash, running his thumb along Flash's jaw.

"That's it…" Peter shifted a little closer, to get a better angle as Flash made to move his hands and Johnny pushed them right back up. Gently, just a light touch, briefly breaking away to hold Flash's gaze. Checking. Flash tilted his face up for more kissing, and Johnny obliged with a smile. The camera clicked with each photo. Fast, responsive, crystal clear. "Just like that…"

Johnny trailed a line of kisses down Flash's throat, brushing his mouth over the glittering line of the choker adorning it, lingering just for a breath of a moment. Flash looked at the camera again, soft and dazed, his eyelashes casting fine shadows in the warm lighting.

Peter couldn't help but come around just to kiss him, once, and gently.

Flash sighed into his mouth, and he stole a little bite at his lip before Johnny pushed him back with his own quick kiss and murmured, "Back to work, camera boy."

Peter nipped at him too, with a small growl, but he retreated back behind his camera.

***

The bedroom was dark, the silk sheets sleek beneath him, and Johnny's mouth hot on Flash's skin. Each kiss a burning spot that made his skin tingle pleasantly from the intimacy. Johnny ran his carefully manicured hands up Flash's sides, just firm enough not to tickle but still light, and nosed at Flash's throat briefly before dipping back down to press a searing kiss to his chest.

His hands drifted higher, and he shifted back up to kiss Flash, a little bit of tongue parting his lips just as he squeezed one of Flash's biceps. Johnny let out an appreciative hum and took his other arm in-hand too. Flash felt a rush of pride, and flexed under Johnny, curling his hands into loose fists.

He expected some kind of snarky comment—the usual—but instead Johnny leaned over and licked a stripe up the inside of Flash's arm.

Flash shivered.

Peter made some kind of guttural noise and Flash and Johnny both looked over at him. Ever the professional photographer, hands on his camera, face hidden behind the viewfinder… and a noticeably growing tent in his pants.

Johnny purred out a quiet laugh, and started kissing his way back down again, smattering a last few sweet pecks to Flash's arms before returning to his previous place at Flash's chest. His tongue flicked out, a light little tease at one of Flash's nipples, and Flash arched his back encouragingly. Johnny grinned, and sat up. Disappointing, but Flash didn't mind so much when Johnny smoothed his hands out over his pecs. A nice, firm grope, his fingers burning against Flash's flushed skin.

"You're so strong…" Johnny brushed his thumbs over Flash's nipples, drawing another shiver out of him. Hands down his sides and back up around the sides of his pecs just to feel. "My big, strong man."

Peter grumbled something that sounded like "You're both _mine_ ," and Johnny laughed that light, beautiful laugh of his. Flash wanted to reach up and pull him into a kiss but he remembered at the last second that Johnny had posed him this way, and wanted him to stay like that, so he kept his hands obediently over his head as Johnny leaned back down to fasten his mouth onto Flash's chest. Hot and wet and smooth—Flash let out a half-formed gasp, biting it back. He felt Johnny laugh again under his skin, low and quiet this time. Fully aware of what he was doing, and in control of his every movement.

Flash felt like he was full of butterflies.

One playful hand danced down Flash's side, this time ticklish enough to make him tense under Johnny. Johnny grinned, and his hand dipped down between Flash's legs to give a little squeeze. A punched breath escaped Flash's lungs, and he lifted his head to see Johnny's blonde curls and the curve of his shoulder, and barely—slightly obscured, slightly shadowed—his hand stroking Flash to hardness.

Flash let his head fall back against the pillows, holding as still as he could under Johnny's touch.

He heard the camera click, and something in that drew a gasp out of him.

"Good boy…" Peter's voice, low and rough.

Whether he was talking to Johnny or Flash, it didn't matter, it still made Flash's stomach flutter, as Johnny sucked a hickey around his nipple and thumbed at an extra-sensitive spot on his dick. Flash craned his neck, just for Peter, knowing he was there behind the camera. Sure enough, the shutter clicked, and Flash bit back a little whine.

Johnny's hand left its place around his cock and he whined louder, in disappointment. Johnny grinned against his skin, and reached up to tweak his unoccupied nipple.

That was okay, too.

Especially when Johnny shifted so their hips lined up, and ground down against him in one smooth movement. Flash pushed up against him, his harsh breath almost the only sound aside from the camera—Johnny couldn't do much other than move with him, smaller than Flash in pretty much every way aside from the legs, but he kissed Flash breathless.

Peter muttered something, but Flash was too distracted by Johnny's tongue in his mouth, and the way Johnny's dick slid against Flash's stomach, to make it out.

And then Johnny was breaking their kiss to trail his mouth back down again.

***

Johnny paused to admire his handiwork—the hickey haloing Flash's left nipple. One of his better creations, a nice shade of red, slightly asymmetrical, and just tender enough, judging by the way Flash gasped when he pressed his thumb to the forming bruise. A nice pretty mark for his well-defined chest.

But on to other things—

He traced his lips over Flash's abs, enjoying the way they tensed and flexed with each little movement. Such a sensitive man, all over. Johnny chased each shift, until he reached Flash's hipbone. Another nice spot to suck at. Not as extensively, but just enough to turn it a little pink. He avoided the most obvious next target, and skirted down Flash's groin to kiss the inside of his thigh.

Flash let him coax his legs a little apart, so he could lift one to an angle he liked, and he marked a line of kisses down to the scar that ended his stump. He kissed it like he would any other area, careful not to pay it too little attention, but not to linger too long, lest Flash think he found it repulsive or, on the flip side, overly fetish-worthy. It was perfectly beautiful skin, and he did the same for Flash's other amputated leg, fingers and mouth firm but gentle.

He skipped past his erection again, licking his lips in spite of himself, and slid his hands up Flash's torso to support himself above Flash—hands planted on his chest.

"Any requests?"

Flash looked up at him, face flushed to his ears and all the way down to his collarbone. He made a soft, quiet little noise, a little, "Please…" and Johnny grinned. He liked when Flash got like this. All those edges softened down…

"Yeah, I got one—"

Johnny rolled his eyes and shot Peter a look. "I don't care what you want, web-for-brains."

Peter flipped him off.

Johnny returned his attention to Flash, who just looked up at him with his lips slightly parted, shimmering from the remnants of the lip gloss Johnny had put on him before they started. His pupils were wide and dark in his pretty aqua-blue eyes, and his eyebrows pulled together just a hair. Wordless begging, from this one.

"Oh," Johnny reached up to press his thumb against Flash's mouth. "With a face like that, you could make a boy jealous. They oughta put you in Playboy."

Flash kissed the tip of his thumb. Johnny smiled softly at him.

"Sit up a little for me, okay?" He helped Flash move up part of the way, to sit with his neck cushioned by pillows. Not all the way up, just enough to make a little extra room for Johnny. Satisfied with that, he guided Flash's arms back over his head, running a hand over the swell of one strong bicep before coaxing him to grab ahold of the headboard.

Finally… Johnny settled down between his thighs, laying on his stomach and propping himself up as he took Flash into his mouth.

He got a sharp gasp for his efforts, and laughed around Flash's cock—which got him another gasp. Johnny bobbed his head tentatively, at first, easing Flash into it.

Flash was a big boy, but Johnny had a big mouth, so it wasn't too much of a problem. Still made for a snug fit (not as much as Peter, of course, but Peter didn't count). And with a snug fit came a lot of contact, and Flash got worked up fast—Johnny sank down as much as he could, and listened to the pretty noises that escaped Flash's mouth.

To the side, Peter let out a low curse.

***

There were choices to weigh, now.

One: stay with the camera, taking pictures of Johnny's pink mouth stretched around Flash's cock, and Flash's fluttering eyelashes and parted lips, as he lay there all panting and flushed. Wait, and shoot, and see if he couldn't get a shot of Flash's face when he came.

Or, two: leave the camera, potential photos be damned, and join them so he could fuck Flash's face while Johnny sucked his brains out.

Peter wasn't always the best at making choices.

He supposed there was option three: work the camera one-handed while he jacked himself off.

Fuck it.

Time for door number two.

Peter pointed his camera at Johnny and set it to record, and moved over to the bed in one quick movement. Barely made a sound—he leaned down to kiss Flash, who startled slightly but melted into it, opening his mouth for Peter with no resistance. Peter growled, and tangled his fingers in Flash's wavy-curly strawberry blonde hair, a gentle tug as he broke their kiss.

Yes. This was the best choice to make.

Flash watched with heavy eyelids, as Peter unzipped his fly and shoved his pants down just enough to pull himself free. He was rock hard already, just from watching them, but he couldn't help but laugh at the way Flash's eyes followed his movements.

"Aren't you precious…" Peter got up on the edge of the bed and reached for Flash again, pulling him up gently by his hair as he moved to straddle him. "Such a good boy. Are you gonna be good for me?"

An obscene noise preceded Johnny's interjection—"Shut the _fuck_ up, you're ruining the mood."

Flash just stared up at Peter with his lips parted like he couldn't bear to look away. The choker around his neck sparkled, and Peter thumbed at the rhinestones. Johnny scoffed, and from the sound of it went back down on Flash—Flash shuddered, eyes rolling back slightly. His breath gusted warm against Peter's exposed skin.

Peter smirked, and let his voice go low. "You want this?"

Flash nodded.

"Good boy."

For all his played-up irritation, Johnny sure did make a muffled whining noise around Flash's dick, shocking a sharp gasp out of Flash.

Peter let a smug grin crook his mouth, as he guided Flash to his cock. "C'mere, sweetheart."

Hard target to miss, but Flash was less than coordinated under Johnny's attentions. He leaned into Peter's touch as Peter pushed into his mouth. Just the head—just starting off easy—and still Flash moaned quietly as he settled back into the pillows. Peter rolled his shoulders with a deep breath, reaching for the headboard to steady himself. Flash wasn't as experienced as Johnny, but he was plenty eager to please, and Peter took a moment to gather his senses.

A little deeper…

Peter carefully kept himself from tightening his fingers too much in Flash's hair. Gentle pulling, yes. Actually grabbing handfuls of his hair and tugging hard? No.

He looked over his shoulder, down at Johnny, legs kicked up and toes curling as he sucked Flash's dick with all the skill he'd amassed in his years of depression-fueled benders and illicit bar hookups. Not a sweet story, but he knew what to do with his mouth.

And Flash tried, too.

Peter groaned, half-formed in the back of his throat. He looked away from Johnny, to admire Flash's pretty pink blush and his glossy lips, and let himself thrust shallowly. One hand smoothed through Flash's hair to cup his face, the other gripped the headboard so tight it creaked. Peter ran his thumb over Flash's cheekbone.

"So pretty…"

He slowly, gently began to fuck Flash's mouth in earnest, and as he started to set his pace, Flash moaned, voice cracking at the tail end of it. Then just quiet, heavy breaths through his nose. A wet, not-entirely-sexy noise from behind Peter was all the warning he needed to anticipate the hot kisses that Johnny started peppering up his legs, through the fabric of his jeans. He let out a sharp laugh.

Flash breathed hoarsely—Peter went a little too deep, and he gagged slightly, but other than a gasp when Peter pulled out—he was fine.

"Don't stop." Flash caught his breath. "Please."

Johnny licked the skin just at the base of Peter's spine, and Peter shuddered.

He certainly wouldn't be stopping, any time soon.

***

Peter adjusted the blankets around them as he settled down, with his camera in one hand. It was nothing for him to pull Flash snugly against his side, and Flash went without any complaints. He liked how strong Peter was, and Johnny was warm at his back as they snuggled together, content and relaxed.

"Okay," Peter pressed the camera into Flash's hands, and pulled up the photo gallery. "Hit these buttons to go through them."

Simple stuff—Flash huffed. "I know how to work a camera."

He hesitated, though. But there was already this picture onscreen. Himself, with his head tilted back as Johnny mouthed at his neck. And he'd never seen himself in this kind of light before. These kinds of shadows, and focus, and point of view. It was almost like looking at a different person, beautiful and intimate and—

That was _him_?

Each successive picture. Some of him and Johnny kissing, and for the first time Flash thought they looked like they belonged together, hair gilded and lips fit together perfectly.

A few were of just Flash's face, delicately flushed. Broad shoulders and sharp eyebrows that looked striking instead of awkward. Smooth lines of skin. The tiny sparkle of the necklace Johnny had fastened around his throat highlighting his neck.

"Oh."

Johnny snuggled into his side with a sleepy hum.

"I told you." Peter brushed a stray strand of hair out of Flash's face. "You're beautiful."

Flash nodded, at a loss for words.

Peter clearly not so much, as he added, "And _smart_ ," with a kiss at his jaw. "Strong." Another kiss, on his cheek. "Kind, and loyal, and noble." A kiss for each one, peppered across his face in a little shower of affection.

Flash felt all fuzzy and fluttery, and turned to catch Peter's mouth with his own. Sleepily, Johnny kissed his shoulder, too. Never one to be left out. Flash smiled against Peter's mouth and let the camera come to rest in his lap. He could look at the other pictures later, and the video of Johnny sucking him off. Now he just wanted to be held by them both, warm and certain for this one moment that they loved him, and he _deserved_ it.

Image source: [LINK](https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/721547363/icy-girl-choker-dainty-delicate-silver?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=rhinestone+choker&ref=sr_gallery-1-1&bes=1)

**Author's Note:**

> I just love dainty jewelry, don't you?


End file.
